The Butterflies
by Angie Astravic
Summary: In the aftermath of Lord Voldemort's attack on number four, Privet Drive, Lupin, Snuffles and Snape are hauled in for questioning by the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. Explicit lycanthropy.
1. A Grim Situation

  
  


— CHAPTER ONE — 

_A Grim Situation_

  
'Well, I could certainly use more Hinkypunk gizzards,' sighed Mr Borgin. 'But seven Sickles an ounce? No, I'd be bankrupt within the month if I paid those sorts of prices. But do come back if you decide be more reasonable, Mr Lupin.' 

Remus Lupin exited the dimly-lit shop, shaking his head sadly at Borgin's tightfistedness. Once outside, he dropped his air of mock sorrow and let the very real exhaustion and worry that he was feeling show through. After nearly an entire morning spent prowling about Knockturn Alley, he'd not got a single new lead on Harry's whereabouts. 

Direct enquiries into rumours of strange occurrences (made ostensibly for the purpose of scrounging a Dark creature extermination job) had turned up nothing. The Ministry had surpassed itself in keeping Voldemort's latest atrocity hushed up -- in the fortnight since, not so much as a whisper had got out, even in the Dark community. Lupin's other, subtler means of gathering information -- offering for sale, under the counter, potion ingredients that were usually strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic -- had also failed to reveal anything of importance. 

Notorious for his overcharging, Lupin was considered a source of last resort by most of the shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley. When trade was slow, they seldom even bothered to haggle with him. When they were actually willing to meet his grossly inflated prices, he knew something really serious was afoot. Though Lupin had had no takers today, all the people he'd spoken with had treated him extremely politely, which indicated that the demand for Dark ingredients was brisk, but not yet urgent -- yet the wizards whose business it was to anticipate such things believed it might soon _become_ urgent. 

As they'd been acting much the same way for a number of weeks, however, this told Lupin fairly little he didn't already know. Perhaps Borgin's voice had been a tad oilier this time ... or perhaps it was just Lupin's imagination. Lupin rubbed his forehead tiredly. Even if Borgin truly was growing more deferential, there could well be an innocent explanation for it. 

When Lupin required an immediate excuse to talk to a particular shopkeeper or look around inside a particular shop, he would feign a pressing need for gold and sell off his wares at prices as ridiculously low as they normally were ridiculously high. Borgin might merely sense the possibility of a bargain in the near future -- Lupin probably did appear quite close to desperation. 

Without a doubt, the previous month had been one of the worst in his life. Lupin had known that Dark days were looming on the horizon from the moment Sirius had shown up at his house bringing news of Voldemort's return, but he'd never dreamed the Dark Lord would strike so swiftly or so devastatingly. 

Lupin could still vividly recall the ashen expression on Dumbledore's face when, little over a week later, he'd come by to tell Lupin and Sirius that Voldemort had somehow got past protections which ought to have been unbreachable to demolish the house in which Harry was living. What was more, Harry and his relatives had vanished without a trace, and the best efforts of both Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic had so far proved insufficient to find them. 

Dumbledore hadn't stopped for long. Lupin and Sirius couldn't do much to help him. Lupin had made his weekly trip to Knockturn Alley the day before the attack occurred, and hadn't observed anything out of the ordinary. Neither he nor Sirius had expertise in the kinds of powerful protective charms that Dumbledore had employed to try and keep Harry safe -- those had been Lily's specialty, when she was alive. If Dumbledore himself didn't understand how his magic had failed, neither of them was likely to figure it out. 

Nor were they able to offer any fresh suggestions about places where Harry might be hiding, or to which he might go once he decided the coast was clear. The obvious locations -- Privet Drive, Diagon Alley and The Burrow -- were already being watched by far less suspicious persons than a shabby, greying werewolf and a giant black dog. 

It had been every wizard's worst nightmare when Voldemort was in power that a friend or relative would disappear in this manner, for no one so taken by the Dark Lord had ever returned alive. On rare occasions a body would be recovered, but invariably in such horrifying condition that the grief of the survivors was only increased. 

Sirius had gone off into trance of despair. For three days he'd wandered the house as a dog, sniffing in corners and whimpering forlornly. Then he too had vanished, leaving no word behind as to where he was going. There'd been nothing for Lupin to do except notify Dumbledore, and ask specifically after Grim sightings the next time he was in Knockturn Alley. 

The former action at least had met with some success. Night before last, Dumbledore had brought Sirius back to Lupin's house, giving him a stern lecture about staying out of sight and warning him that it would do Harry no good for his godfather to get himself killed, or worse. Lupin still wasn't clear on where Sirius had been or what he'd been doing; he hadn't been able to get any proper answers out of him once Dumbledore left. 

Lupin had originally planned to cancel today's journey to Knockturn Alley -- he'd not thought it a good idea to leave Sirius alone. Sirius, however, had begged him to go on, in the desperate hope that this would be the day Lupin finally found some sort of clue ... and now Lupin had to return home and tell him he hadn't. 

Lupin heaved a weary sigh, collected his thoughts and Apparated. He tapped the kitchen door with his wand to open it and stepped into the house, calling out, 'Snuffles, I'm --' 

'_Stupefy_!' roared a voice behind him. 

* 

Lupin opened his eyes, gazed around in puzzlement and sat up. He was in an unfamiliar room, empty except for a fireplace, several cloaks hanging from iron hooks in the stone walls and a very small, very angry-looking wizard wearing green robes embroidered with the crest of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. The wizard glared down at Lupin, wand at the ready, Lupin's own wand stuck in his belt. 

'Remus Lupin, you are wanted for questioning by the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol,' he said coldly. 'You have _been_ wanted for questioning by the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol since nine o'clock this morning. The first wizard sent to fetch you said he heard a terrible growling from your house, and that he refused to enter a dwelling with a transformed werewolf inside -- this despite it being broad daylight not four days past the dark of the moon. The second returned in a state of nervous collapse, having apparently peered through a window and seen the Grim.' 

The wizard paused to draw a deep, outraged breath. 

'I don't know what you think you're playing at, but if spending the day in Azkaban for obstructing the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol in the course of its duties is what you're after, you are very close to getting your wish.' 

Before Lupin could respond, a loud, furious barking filled the air. An enormous, shaggy black dog (gone slightly grey from soot and ash) was clambering out of the fire. The wizard wheeled about and pointed his wand at it. 

'Snuffles!' said Lupin brightly. He scrambled to his feet, hurried over to the dog and flung a restraining arm around its neck. 'It's all right, Snuffles, good boy. Mr -- er --' ('Ormesby,' the wizard supplied) '-- Mr Ormesby just wants me to assist the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol with one of their investigations.' 

The dog stopped its barking, but continued to survey Ormesby with a most unfriendly glint in its eyes. 

'This is my dog, Snuffles,' Lupin explained. 'He must have followed us through the Floo powder. I've been off shopping all morning, and he guards the house while I'm gone. I do apologise if he frightened your men.' 

Lupin smiled pleasantly at Ormesby (whose face had turned an alarming shade of purple) but inside he was quite upset. 

This was not because he'd been taken in for questioning by the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol -- that had happened to him a number of times over the years. Being anywhere within fifty miles of the scene of a crime whilst a werewolf was considered highly suspicious behaviour by them. Usually Lupin was let go again after an hour or two. Calm, reasonable and polite answers from a dangerous monster tended to put the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol completely off its stroke. 

It wasn't himself Lupin was concerned about, but Sirius. Sirius Black was at the top of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol's most wanted list. The last place he should be was inside their very headquarters, and Lupin didn't trust him to keep his head down. Sirius was even more reckless and impulsive as a dog than as a man, which was saying something, and Harry's disappearance seemed to have thoroughly unhinged him. Lupin had to get him away from there as quickly as possible. 

'I'll just take Snuffles back to the house, shall I?' said Lupin. 'Shouldn't be gone half a minute ...' 

'You won't,' snapped Ormesby. 'I've had enough trouble getting you here.' 

Ormesby shoved his wand inside his robes and swept towards the door. 

Lupin trailed after him, protesting feebly, 'I really don't think ... a good dog, but he can be quite boisterous ... not used to being indoors for so long ... or around strange wizards ...' 

Ormesby gave no sign of having heard him. He poked his head out the room and looked up and down. 

'Mr Snape!' he called out sharply. 

'Yes?' came the reply. 

Ormesby strode into the hallway. Lupin followed him, Sirius at his heel. There, in a bench along the right-hand wall, sat Severus Snape. 

Lupin wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more worried yet to see him. Snape was on their side; he'd be able help Lupin cover up for Sirius. On the other hand, Snape's presence suggested that there was something more going on here than the mere fact that Lupin was a werewolf. The only connection between Snape and Lupin was that the pair of them were working for Dumbledore against the resurrected Voldemort. If the Ministry had got wind of this and was determined to put a stop to it, they could all be in very deep trouble. 

'We'll interview you as soon we've finished with Mr Lupin,' Ormesby told Snape. 'He'll be leaving his dog here -- see that it doesn't go wandering off.' 

'You remember Snuffles, don't you, Severus?' said Lupin. 

Snape's eyes flashed with a momentary, swiftly suppressed rage. Then, keeping his face carefully blank, he gave the dog a long, appraising look. 

'Now that I think of it, I _have_ seen the beast around Hogwarts,' he said. 'I'd not realised it belonged to you. Nor do I believe that animals are allowed in the offices of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol --' Snape turned to Ormesby, '-- and I would strongly advise that you not make an exception for Lupin's dog. It has been running wild in the Hogwarts grounds for over a year; I certainly cannot take responsibility for its behaviour.' 

'He's quite right,' said Lupin to Ormesby. 'If you'd just let me bring Snuffles home ... I could be there and back again in no time ...' 

Ormesby completely ignored him. 'If you don't think you can handle the dog by yourself, I can send someone to stay with you,' he said to Snape. 

'That won't be necessary,' said Snape in an icy tone. 

'You stay with Severus, now, Snuffles,' Lupin told the dog sternly. 'Don't give him any trouble and don't go roaming about. You were a bad boy to follow me here ... a very bad boy indeed.' 

Sirius shot Lupin an almost human look of disgust, but obediently stretched himself out on the floor at Snape's feet. 

'Lupin, come along,' said Ormesby irritably. After one last glance back at Sirius, Lupin set off down the corridor after him. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	2. The Werewolf's Curse

  
  


— CHAPTER TWO — 

_The Werewolf's Curse_

  
Ormesby led Lupin around a corner and into another tiny room, where a single battered but sturdy wooden chair stood facing a table with several rather more comfortable-looking chairs arranged behind it. 

It came as a most unpleasant shock to Lupin that one of these was occupied by none other than Cornelius Fudge. For the Minister for Magic himself to sit in on a Magical Law Enforcement Patrol interrogation was unheard of -- bang went the last chance of this being some trivial matter. To cap it all, standing at either side of the table were two towering, black-cloaked Dementors. They turned their hooded faces towards Lupin as he walked through the door, and the bad feeling he had about the entire situation got abruptly worse. 

Ormesby stalked over to the table, scowled at Lupin, pointed to the chair opposite and ordered, 'Sit!' 

Lupin sat; so did Ormesby. He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink and set it at the top of a roll of parchment, where it remained balanced on its point. 

'Now, Mr Lupin --' Ormesby began, the quill copying down his every word. 

'I say, shouldn't he be chained down?' interrupted Fudge. 

'He's not under arrest yet, Minister,' said Ormesby. 

'But a _werewolf_ --' said Fudge. 

'Well, it's not standard procedure, but if you insist ...' said Ormesby, looking not at all displeased when Fudge did. 

Ormesby conjured up a set of heavy iron chains that wrapped themselves around Lupin, binding him to the chair. Under ordinary circumstances, Lupin would have hinted that the Office for Werewolf Support Services might take a dim view of this treatment, but with Sirius in the building he didn't dare risk either prolonging the interview or annoying Ormesby. 

Fudge frowned. 'Shouldn't those chains be silver?' 

'No,' said Ormesby in a very definite voice. 'Short of a killing blow, steel will do as much damage as silver to a werewolf that isn't transformed, and unlike silver, injuries caused by steel can be healed magically. If we used silver chains and he cut himself struggling, it could be grounds for a complaint of cruel treatment. He _is_ only here for questioning.' 

Lupin didn't like the sound of this one bit. Ormesby seemed to be implying that he _expected_ Lupin to cut himself struggling. Whilst Lupin's previous visits to Magical Law Enforcement Patrol headquarters hadn't exactly been fun, he had yet to become a victim of police brutality. On the single occasion he'd been in any real danger of being wrongfully charged with a crime, Dumbledore had stepped in to vouch for him, and that had been the end of that. 

The leftmost Dementor made a hollow, rattly noise deep within its throat. The room grew suddenly colder and darker, and Lupin felt a sharp surge of misery and guilt. He hadn't deserved Dumbledore's help. He had abused and betrayed Dumbledore's trust, both before and after -- 

'Where were you on the afternoon of July the thirteenth?' asked Ormesby, jerking Lupin back to the present. 

When the question finally sank in, Lupin realised with a nasty jolt that he'd been brought in to be interrogated about Harry. 

Lupin had naturally been aware that the Ministry was investigating Harry's disappearance, but he hadn't expected much to come of it -- not so long as Fudge was still burying his head in the sand about Voldemort being back. During their most recent conversation, Dumbledore had told Lupin that the Minister now had some crackpot notion that the whole thing was a plot to embarrass him by unknown political enemies. 

If Fudge had fixed on Dumbledore and his allies as the persons responsible, events had taken a serious turn for the worse. Not only would the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol have no hope of catching up with the true perpetrator, they'd be thwarting the efforts of the one group of wizards who did. 

Lupin did his best to hide his panic, putting on an expression of innocent helpfulness. 

'July the thirteenth?' he said mildly. 'I'd have been at home in bed the entire day. There was a full moon the night of the twelfth.' 

'Can anyone corroborate that?' demanded Fudge. 

As it happened, on that particular day, for the first time in close on fourteen years, there _had_ been someone who could corroborate that, but Lupin didn't think the fact that he'd been harbouring an escaped mass murderer would go down well with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol as an alibi. 

'Er -- no,' he said. 'I never have visitors on the day after a full moon, I'm too ill.' 

'Exactly as I said, Minister,' said Ormesby. 'A werewolf is one of the least likely creatures to be responsible for this incident. I was a member of the Werewolf Capture Unit for five years, and I've known Cornish Pixies to put up more of a fight than the werewolves we caught on the day after the full moon. Of course, by then, the damage was usually already done ...' 

'But it would fit the absence of bodies,' Fudge argued. 'If he ate them ...' 

'Two adults and two fifteen-year-olds, leaving no traces behind?' said Ormesby sceptically. 'Transformed werewolves can't eat meat, let alone cloth or bone, and --' 

'Can't eat meat!' echoed Fudge in disbelief. 'Of course they can eat meat! Wolves are carnivores, meat's the only thing they _can_ eat!' 

'Wolves are carnivores, yes, but a werewolf isn't a wolf,' Ormesby explained patiently. 'Or at least no more so than a vampire is a man. Werewolves bite humans to drink their blood, not to eat their flesh. In fact,' he continued, obviously warming to his subject, 'surviving a werewolf attack is a fairly simple matter: just lie still and let the beast lick at the wound until sunrise. The trouble is that few wizards manage to keep their heads well enough to follow this advice -- they'll panic and struggle and end up bleeding to death from multiple bites ... but then, "survive" almost inevitably means "survive as a werewolf", due to the increased contact with the creature's saliva and the greater amount of time the bite is left untreated. Many would prefer to run the risk of being killed for even the slimmest chance of getting away clean.' 

Ormesby gave Fudge and Lupin a genuinely happy smile, quite at odds with the extreme gruesomeness of his dissertation. Fudge's face had gone thoroughly green, and Lupin felt nearly as sick as Fudge looked. _Lie still and let the beast lick the wound ..._ That was what he had done, not from choice but because at three years old he'd been far too small for his struggles to have any effect. 

Lupin gave a shudder of remembered horror. 

His Aunt Lis had tucked him into bed at a rather earlier hour than he was accustomed to, and thus he had still been awake to hear her going out the back door. As his mother had so strictly warned him to remain in the house that evening, he had scrambled out of bed to go and call his aunt back indoors. 

The instant Remus set foot in the garden, the werewolf had pounced, knocking him off his feet, flopping on top of him and sinking its teeth into his arm. More than twice his size, it had had not the slightest difficulty holding him pinned down whilst it lapped up his blood ... 

The Dementor to Lupin's right took a long, rattling breath. A penetrating coldness swept over him. It cut through his robes, through his very skin, freezing his insides, dragging him under. He was falling, falling through white fog, falling onto hard, rocky dirt, where the werewolf's contented growling filled his ears as its teeth scraped the bone of his arm. 

His fingers scrabbled desperately at the ground as he fought to pull himself free, but it was no use. The werewolf was simply too much bigger than him. It probed at the wound with its rough tongue, sending waves of pain through his arm, pausing only when the bleeding slowed to bite down once more and draw fresh blood. The nightmare seemed to go on for ever ... Remus' terror grew almost past endurance ... his heart was ready to burst in his chest ... 

Then, in the distance, he heard his mother scream, and felt the weight of the monster lift off him as it charged her down. 

'_Stupefy!_ ... _Stupefy!_ ... AVADA KEDAVRA!' 

In a blinding flash of green light, the werewolf fell to the ground and changed back into his Aunt Lis. 

The fog rose up again, then cleared slightly. Remus was indoors now. A poultice of herbs was being pressed to the bite. It seared the wound with a blazing agony a thousand times worse than the werewolf's tongue, but he hadn't the strength left to yank his arm away, and he'd long since worn out his voice with screaming. 

Through a haze of pain, he could hear his mother crying. 

'I said she was cowardly, I said she didn't look that ill! I told her if she was too afraid to hunt the werewolf with us, she could at least watch Remus for me. Oh, Lis, _Lis!_' 

She broke down once more into great, racking sobs. 

'Exactly why the Ministry advises that this sort of thing be left to the Werewolf Capture Unit,' said a cool, satisfied voice. 'Rogue werewolves nearly always turn out to be local residents -- when members of the public insist on taking matters into their own hands, they often end up either killing a friend or relative, or leaving us with yet another monster to deal with ... in this case, both. You were teaching at Hogwarts when Sirius Black was in the area, were you not, Mr Lupin? ... Mr Lupin? ... _Mr Lupin!_' 

Lupin was back in the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol's interrogation room. He stared at Ormesby in appalled recognition. 

'It was you ...' he said stupidly. 

The wizard sent by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to investigate his aunt's death and Lupin's becoming a werewolf -- it had been Ormesby. 

'What are you talking about?' said Ormesby sharply. 

Lupin shook his head, slumping down as far as his chains would allow. He felt weak and nauseous; his robes were drenched with cold sweat, and not just because of the terrible memories the Dementors had forced him to relive. Lupin didn't normally believe in evil omens, but for Ormesby, who'd represented the Ministry on what had arguably been the most horrific occasion of Lupin's life, to also be presiding over this enquiry -- it could not bode anything good. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	3. A Giant Misjudgement

  
  


— CHAPTER THREE — 

_A Giant Misjudgement_

  
'You stop that!' said Ormesby in cold fury. 'I'm warning you ...' 

Lupin looked up blearily, but Ormesby wasn't talking to him. 

Ormesby had his wand out and was pointing it at the right Dementor, a cloud of silver gas hovering around its end. The Dementor moved back a pace and the coldness and despondency that Lupin was feeling diminished somewhat. He forced himself upright in the chair. It was the effect of the Dementors, making him frightened and superstitious. He had to fight it -- he needed all his wits about him. 

Ormesby gave the Dementors a final glare, took a deep breath and turned to Lupin. 

'You were teaching at Hogwarts when Sirius Black was in the area,' he said, more a statement than a question. 

'Yes, I was,' said Lupin. 

'I fail to see what Sirius Black has to do with any of this,' said Fudge testily. 

Lupin regarded the Minister with some surprise. Given that Fudge refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, it seemed Sirius Black would be his most likely suspect. This was an extremely worrying thought, and one that had only just occurred to Lupin -- yet Fudge didn't appear to consider it a possibility. 

Ormesby's gaze flicked to Fudge and then back to Lupin. Lupin thought he could detect a trace of resentment in the short wizard's eyes. 

Nonetheless, Ormesby chose not to pursue the subject. 'Why did you leave the Dark Arts job?' he said. 

'I -- I wasn't able to -- take sufficient care in controlling my symptoms,' said Lupin. 'I -- didn't feel it safe I remained at Hogwarts, around children.' 

'And what have you been doing since then?' 

'Jobbing Dark creature exterminations, mainly,' Lupin said. 

He wasn't going to admit to selling potion ingredients unless he had to. It might lead to potentially awkward questions about his customer base. 

'Set a monster to catch a monster,' snorted Fudge. 

This was by no means the first time Lupin had heard such sentiments expressed. Still, there were few wizards willing to hire a known werewolf even for that purpose, especially as the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures provided similar services free of charge. 

Some of Lupin's clients mistrusted the government; others simply wished to avoid the long waits and reams of paperwork that dealing with the Pest Sub-Division would entail. A fair number, however, had good cause not to want the Ministry poking its nose in their affairs. Usually they were up to something illegal but mostly harmless, yet on occasion Lupin was able to tip Dumbledore off to some serious Dark Magic. Because of this, Lupin's rates for _exterminations_ were eminently reasonable. 

Ormesby plainly found as little to interest him in Lupin's answer as he did in Fudge's attempt at humour. 

'What is your connection with Harry Potter?' he asked Lupin. 

'I taught him Defence Against the Dark Arts in his third year at Hogwarts,' Lupin replied. 'His father and I were friends.' 

'Disastrously bad judgement in choosing his companions,' Fudge muttered to Ormesby. 'Son turning out just like him, unfortunately.' 

Lupin winced. There was too much truth in Fudge's words. All of James Potter's friends had played their part in bringing about his tragic and untimely death: Peter by betraying him to Voldemort, Sirius by giving Peter his opportunity and Lupin by not being around to put a stop to Sirius' ill-advised plan. If he'd kept in closer touch with his friends ... if he hadn't let himself drift away ... 

But it had been difficult, after Hogwarts. James had had Lily and his interesting Transfiguration research to occupy him. Sirius was doing something new and exciting every week, and with a different girlfriend, too. Even Peter seemed to be muddling along. Lupin had become increasingly reluctant to spoil their happiness by telling them he'd been sacked from yet another job when his condition was discovered, and rather concerned that they might try and help him. 

The Potters were a wealthy and influential family and the Blacks were even more so. Sirius in particular would have been only too happy to find some hapless witch or wizard whose business depended on the Black family's patronage and bully them into taking Lupin on. Lupin could think of few things less pleasant than having to spend his days working amongst people who hated him but didn't dare get rid of him. 

Then Dumbledore had pointed out to him that an unemployed, down-on-his-luck werewolf was uniquely well positioned to keep tabs on the rising Dark Order. As Lupin grew more deeply embroiled in spying and surveillance, he'd thought it best to allow his contacts with respectable persons to lapse altogether. 

So Sirius had come to believed Lupin was in league with Voldemort and hadn't told him that Peter was to take Sirius' place as James and Lily's Secret-Keeper. Lupin would never have permitted them to go through with it had he known, not because he'd suspected Peter, but out of fear for his safety. 

Well, perhaps in the back of his mind Lupin would have worried Peter might give James and Lily away in a moment of panic -- he'd realised that Peter was weak. He hadn't dreamed that Peter was _evil_ ... that he'd deliberately become the Potters' Secret-Keeper intending to sell them to Voldemort, then cold-bloodedly murder twelve Muggles to send Sirius to Azkaban for his own crimes. 

If Lupin had harboured any doubts as to Wormtail's true nature, however, his recent activities had more than laid them to rest. Thanks to Wormtail, Voldemort had been restored to his body and Harry was almost certainly dead. Another catastrophe for which Lupin shared the blame -- he should never have let Harry talk him and Sirius out of giving Wormtail his just deserts. 

The two Dementors sucked at the air with an ugly double rattle. Lupin was once again engulfed by numbing white fog. This time he could hear Dumbledore's voice -- 

_'James and Lily are dead ... their Secret-Keeper betrayed them ... Sirius ... Peter ... _he_ murdered them ... the house was completely destroyed ... Harry ... we can't find him anywhere ... Sirius ... Sirius has been handed over to the Dementors ...'_

Lupin was drowning in cold and guilt and despair ... then someone slapped his face, hard. 

'Snap out of it!' barked Ormesby. 

If not for the chains binding him to the chair, Lupin would have collapsed to the floor. He felt horribly sick and shaken. Not even in the days prior to his mastering the Patronus Charm had he experienced Dementors feeding on him like this ... 

'Can we not send those things away, Minister?' said Ormesby with ill-concealed exasperation. 'He's chained down, and we aren't going to get much sense out of him otherwise.' 

'The Dementors stay,' said Fudge flatly. 'Now get on with your questioning.' 

Ormesby stalked back to the table and glowered from one Dementor to the other. 

'If you lot interfere with this investigation one more time, I'll have you up in front of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures,' he bit off. 'We have the wherewithal to execute rogue Dementors, and don't forget it.' 

Ormesby sat down and turned his scowl on Lupin. 

'What is your connection with Bartemius Crouch?' he demanded. 

Lupin, his brain still half-frozen, stared at Ormesby blankly. 

'I -- I once gave evidence before the Council of Magical Law when Crouch was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' he finally said, 'during the trials after the fall of Voldemort ...' 

Fudge flinched when Lupin said the name, then sat up very straight and glared at him. Ormesby merely raised an eyebrow. 

'I meant Bartemius Crouch Jr,' he said. 

'Ah,' said Lupin. 'No connection. It was not his trial that I was involved in.' 

'He's lying, Ormesby!' said Fudge immediately. 'They were at Hogwarts together!' 

'Oh ... so we would have been,' said Lupin, 'but years apart, in different houses -- we weren't acquainted with one another.' 

Ormesby eyed Lupin calculatingly. 

'What is your connection with Sirius Black?' he said. 

Before Lupin could reply, Fudge exploded. 'Sirius Black has fled the country! There have been no sightings of him in over a year! He is utterly irrelevant to this enquiry!' In a more reasonable tone, Fudge went on, 'If it wasn't the werewolf, it must have been the giant. A giant could eat four people, no trouble. They consider human bones a delicacy --' 

'-- when ground into meal and baked into bread, yes,' said Ormesby. 'They can't actually chew them up with their teeth. And a giant would no more eat clothing than you'd eat a cloth table napkin. _Some_ remains should have been left behind -- even a full giant isn't large enough to swallow a grown man whole.' 

'He could have carried them off with him,' said Fudge stubbornly. 

'Well, something must have carried them off,' said Ormesby. 'Carried them off _alive_ -- there's no indication anyone was killed on site. But there's also nothing to suggest it was a giant. That house wasn't smashed with a club! The Improper Use of Magic Office registered a very powerful Reductor Curse and a very powerful unknown charm -- presumably the spell used to conjure the Dark Mark --' 

'That was not a Dark Mark, that was not a Dark Mark!' said Fudge furiously. 'The Dark Mark's made of lights in the sky, not burnt grass on the ground!' 

'Regardless of the nature of the -- marking -- it took a skilled wizard to make it,' said Ormesby. 'Destroying an entire garden with one curse -- not to mention breaching the protections Dumbledore put on the family --' 

'The protections Dumbledore _said_ he put on the family,' said Fudge darkly. 'I'm not certain we can rely on anything Dumbledore says anymore. Getting a bit past it, in my opinion. Mind's starting to go ...' 

'Even so, all the evidence we have indicates that this attack was the work of a Dark wizard, not a monster,' said Ormesby. 

'So you think it's Snape, then,' said Fudge. 'I always said the fellow was mad ...' 

'Snape is undoubtedly a dangerous man, with an unhealthy fixation on the Potter boy,' said Ormesby, 'but he's had nearly fourteen years to act on it, and none of this trouble started until Sirius Black escaped.' 

'That will be enough about Sirius Black!' roared Fudge. 'Black is continents away by now, and I won't have you causing a public panic by suggesting otherwise!' 

Ormesby didn't look convinced, but was clearly unwilling to press the matter. 

Fudge sat breathing hard for a few seconds, then said, 'Have you made any progress in discovering the giant's whereabouts? I find his disappearance highly suspicious. He needn't have eaten them himself, you know. Perhaps he brought one of his creatures with him and it got out of control ...' 

'Do you mean Rubeus Hagrid?' said Lupin. 

Ormesby and Fudge turned to stare at him, Ormesby with narrowed eyes, Fudge as astonished as he would have been had Snuffles just spoken up to offer him advice. 

'Only Dumbledore told me he'd gone on holiday abroad,' Lupin continued, 'with a woman he met last year, apparently. Dumbledore didn't say where, but I'm sure he knows. Have you tried asking _him_?' 

Lupin gave Ormesby and Fudge the most cheerful smile he could muster. 

There was a brief silence. Then Ormesby said abruptly, 'Right, that's all the questions I had. Is there anything else you wished to ask, Minister?' 

Fudge shook his head, looking disgruntled. 

'That will be all, then, Mr Lupin,' said Ormesby. 'For now, that is. We may be calling you back in future. Don't _you_ plan on going on holiday abroad this summer.' 

Ormesby waved his wand and Lupin's chains vanished. 

'Go and tell Mr Snape we're ready for him,' he said. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	4. The Death Eater's Patronus

  
  


— CHAPTER FOUR — 

_The Death Eater's Patronus_

  
Lupin walked back up the corridor, his spirits rising a notch with each step he took away from the Dementors. When he arrived at the bench outside the Floo room, the smile he gave Snape was entirely heartfelt. 

'Ormesby says they're ready for you now,' Lupin said. 'Thanks for looking after Snuffles for me.' 

Snape nodded curtly, got up and headed for the interrogation room. 

'Come along, Snuffles,' said Lupin. 'Let's go home.' 

But Snuffles didn't come along. Instead, with a whimper of fright, he began backing away, his eyes fixed over Lupin's shoulder. Lupin whirled and beheld a tall, hooded Dementor, gliding towards them. 

The Dementor drew in a deep, rattling breath. A wave of cold washed over Lupin. White fog gathered at the edges of his vision. He reached for his wand, then with a thrill of horror realised that Ormesby still had it. 

'Snuffles -- run -- Floo room --' gasped Lupin. He stepped in front of Sirius to block the Dementor's path. 

The Dementor lowered its hood. Scabbed, greyish, rotting skin covered an eyeless face with a great gaping hole of a mouth. Lupin felt as though an avalanche of ice had been dumped on him. The fog swirled up to cloud his sight. Sirius let out a long, despairing howl. 

The Dementor brushed past Lupin and swooped down upon the dog. 

'No!' shouted Lupin. 

He reached through the mist, grabbing at the Dementor's clammy, decaying arm as it seized hold of Sirius. Even through its robes, the Dementor's flesh was piercingly cold, biting into Lupin's hands. It swivelled its head as if to peer down at him with its empty sockets. The white fog grew blindingly thick. Dumbledore's voice echoed in Lupin's brain -- 

_'James and Lily ... Harry ... dead ... Sirius ... taken to Azkaban ...'_

'No ... he didn't ... he's innocent ...' whispered Lupin. 

The cold was inside him now. He was drowning in mist and freezing water; he could no longer feel his hands. He had to find his way back to Sirius, to save him, but it was no use -- Sirius was gone, lost in ice and fog. 

Then, from a long way off, Lupin heard footsteps pounding in his direction and a voice bellowing, 'EXPECTO PATRONUM!' 

The white fog thinned and faded. Lupin found himself lying face down on the floor, Sirius in an unconscious heap beside him. He lifted his head and saw Snape a mere foot away, staring past the two of them with an expression of horrified fascination on his gaunt face. Lupin rolled over and craned his neck to see what at. 

The passage beyond was filled with small glowing specks of silver -- some sort of Patronus, but it didn't seem to be working properly. Instead of retreating, the Dementor was staggering around in circles. Its shapeless mouth worked frantically, horrible gagging noises issuing forth. 

Lupin tried to stand up. It was difficult; he was shivery and weak, his hands completely numb. Just as he managed to heave himself onto the bench, the Dementor toppled over, lay twitching feebly and dissolved into a puddle of slime. 

The silvery specks fluttered about the hallway in confusion and slowly, one by one, began to vanish away. A lone straggler -- a butterfly, by the look of it -- landed on Lupin's wrist, beat its delicate wings once, twice, then disappeared with a _pop_. 

'You've killed it,' said Ormesby, in a tone of utter amazement. Apparently he'd rounded the corner just in time to witness the Dementor's final moments. 

Lupin was equally astounded. Executing a Dementor normally required a team of at least seven highly trained wizards. It was barely within the realm of possibility that a Dumbledore or a Voldemort, using the most advanced and complex spells of destruction, might finish off a Dementor single-handedly. Certainly Lupin would never have credited Snape with that level of ability. 

'I had no choice,' said Snape tensely. 'Its hood was lowered. It was trying to kiss the werewolf, but his dog was holding it off. When I returned to see what the commotion was, it turned on me. I did what I did in self-defence.' Snape's voice rose slightly with anger. 'I came here in good faith to assist the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol with its investigations. I scarcely imagined that I'd be putting my soul at risk in doing so! Your Dementors have evidently got the impression that they can attack the innocent and the guilty alike with impunity. Unless you quickly disabuse them of this notion, you will find the public's willingness to cooperate with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol growing very thin on the ground.' 

To Lupin's immense relief, Ormesby accepted Snape's story without question. 

'Well, you definitely disabused that one,' he said drily, surveying the fallen Dementor. 'Maybe this will ... encourage the others.' 

As Ormesby turned to go, Lupin forced himself to his feet. In a voice taut with rage, he said, '_Give me back my wand_.' 

Ormesby took Lupin's wand from his belt and held it out to him wordlessly, but Lupin couldn't bend his fingers to grasp it. Ormesby finally had to put the wand into Lupin's pocket for him before setting off down the corridor. With a single backwards scowl at Lupin, Snape followed Ormesby. 

Lupin dropped to one knee to examine Sirius. He was still out cold. 

Wrapping his arms around the dog's chest, Lupin dragged him into the Floo room. He wasn't sure how he managed; as a dog Sirius weighed close to three hundred pounds, and the Dementors' attacks had left Lupin hardly able to walk. Perhaps sheer terror lent him strength. There were doubtless other Dementors prowling the building and it did Lupin no good to have his wand back now that his hands were useless. 

Lupin laid Sirius down in front of the hearth. On the mantelpiece was an old coffee tin full of Floo power, which mercifully had been left open. He clamped the tin tightly between his wrists and tossed the lot into the fire. With a deafening roar, the flames blazed incandescent emerald and shot halfway up the chimney. 

He'd used far too much Floo powder, Lupin thought as he pulled Sirius into the fireplace, but if the offices of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol became infested with Ashwinders, it would serve Ormesby right. 

* 

Hours later, Lupin was sitting at his kitchen table sipping hot chocolate from a cup that floated near his lips, when Professor McGonagall Apparated in the middle of the room. Her hair hung loose, falling almost to her waist, and she was wearing black robes instead of her usual green. These robes seemed to have been borrowed from a taller, thinner witch, as they were a bit long in the sleeves and -- Lupin hastily averted his eyes -- rather snug across the chest. 

'Have you taken complete leave of your senses?' snarled Professor McGonagall. 'Bringing that creature to Magical Law Enforcement Patrol headquarters -- and telling Ormesby I knew the beast! If he'd been discovered, all three of us would have been packed off to Azkaban!' 

Lupin gawped at her, speechless, for several stunned moments. 

Then he said calmly, 'You're quite right, Severus. Won't you sit down and have some hot chocolate? I'm afraid you'll have to pour it yourself ...' 

He held up his frozen hands apologetically. 

Professor McGonagall -- or rather, Snape transformed into Professor McGonagall -- looked far from taking up Lupin's offer. 

'Dumbledore will be hearing of this, make no mistake,' she said in a soft, menacing tone. 

'I've already heard most of it, from Remus,' said a deep voice near the kitchen door. Albus Dumbledore came to the table and set a jar of bluish-white paste in front of Lupin. 'Madam Pomfrey said this should help mend your hands.' 

Lupin reached for the jar without thinking, then realised he could neither pick it up nor unscrew the lid. 

'Er -- could you --' 

Sirius, who'd been sprawled out behind Lupin's chair, got up, placed his paws on the table and gave Dumbledore a short, sharp bark. 

'Yes, we all need to be able to speak freely,' Dumbledore murmured. 

He took out his wand. Silvery vapour poured from its tip, drifting out to cover the walls, ceiling and floor. Sirius changed back into a man. Throwing a dark look at the fake McGonagall, he opened the jar and began applying the paste to Lupin's hands. 

'Severus, what in heaven's name did you do to that Dementor?' said Dumbledore. 

To Lupin's surprise, Professor McGonagall appeared somewhat reluctant to answer this question. 

'You -- you are familiar with the form my Patronus takes, Headmaster?' she asked Dumbledore stiffly. 

Dumbledore nodded and gazed enquiringly at her over his half-moon spectacles, but she did not seem inclined to elaborate. 

'It was a flock of butterflies, was it not?' prompted Lupin. 

'A flock of _butterflies_?' Sirius gave a derisive snort. 'And I thought James had a stupid Patronus.' 

Professor McGonagall eyed him with pure hatred. 

'Were they -- venomous butterflies?' said Lupin, bewildered. 'Mamba Moths? But -- it wouldn't matter, would it? A Patronus may take on an animal's shape, but it won't have its powers. It's the substance of the Patronus that affects Dementors -- it makes no difference that your one has the form of _any_ sort of butterflies.' 

'It makes a difference,' snapped Professor McGonagall, 'if the Dementor happens to swallow one of them.' 

The mist-covered kitchen rang with the sound Dumbledore's laughter. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	5. The Post Mortem

  
  


— CHAPTER FIVE — 

_The Post Mortem_

  
Remus Lupin stepped out into his garden and raised his hands to the moonlight. Madam Pomfrey's paste had unstiffened his fingers somewhat, but they were still too feeble and shaky to hold a wand properly. Being a werewolf, however, had one advantage to it: any injury not inflicted by a silver weapon would, under the right conditions, magically heal itself. 

This healing occurred almost instantaneously when the werewolf was transformed. In human form, it required the same triggers as the transformation itself: exposure to direct moonlight after dark, or failing that, the moon's reaching its highest point in the sky. Fortunately, as it was a clear evening, Lupin didn't have to wait for the next moon transit. 

Feeling the strength return to his hands as the moonlight soaked in, Lupin flexed his fingers -- a bit achy yet, but it would do to be going on with. He turned and went back into the house through the still fogged-over kitchen door. Sirius was at the table, wand in hand, mouth set in a grim line, eyes fixed on the doorway. His watchful air relaxed slightly when he saw Lupin emerging from the mist. 

'There, good as new,' said Lupin, holding out his hands. It was a small lie, but a necessary one. 

Sirius came over to have a look. 'You can use a wand again?' he said. 'Show me.' 

Lupin obligingly took the wand and summoned the pot of now rather cold hot chocolate from the sideboard. 

'You really ought to be starting off for Mundungus's,' he told Sirius. 'It's not safe for you here, now that the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol have their eye on me. You should have gone when Dumbledore did -- I would've been all right by myself until sunset.' 

Sirius stared off into the fog, a haunted look in his shadowed eyes. 

'He asked me not to leave him ...' he said quietly. '... that night in the hospital wing, after he'd got away from Voldemort. And I told him -- I told him --' 

Sirius' voice broke. Lupin reached out and gripped his shoulder tightly. 

'Severus doesn't think he's dead, you heard what he said.' 

'And you heard what else Snape said!' Sirius replied harshly. 

Unfortunately, Lupin had. 

* 

After Snape had explained the cause of the Dementor's extraordinary death by misadventure (and Dumbledore had wiped the last tears of mirth from his eyes), they'd all sat down to discuss the troubling new developments in the Ministry's investigations. It was a highly peculiar experience to see Snape's speech and mannerisms combined with McGonagall's voice and body. Lupin wasn't at all sorry when, halfway through the conversation, the Polyjuice Potion wore off and Snape changed back into himself. 

Snape, it turned out, had been given an even more cursory interview than Lupin (luckily, Argus Filch could confirm that he'd been in the Hogwarts library at the time of the attack). The Dementor Snape killed had been one of Fudge's from the interrogation room. The remaining Dementor had left him strictly alone, and Fudge had seemed quite as nervous of Snape as the Dementor. Ormesby -- perhaps having learnt his lesson with Lupin -- didn't try asking Snape about Sirius, nor, surprisingly enough, did he raise the subject of Snape's past association with Voldemort. 

'Although I'm not certain Ormesby knows about that,' said Dumbledore, 'and considering how determined Fudge is to believe Voldemort had nothing to do with the incident, I doubt he would have mentioned it to him.' 

'I suspect the only reason Ormesby took us in for questioning was because Fudge made him,' said Lupin. 'Ormesby was obviously convinced Sirius Black was responsible, but Fudge wasn't even ready to accept that possibility.' 

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. 

'I believe the Minister's wish that all this be kept quiet can be made to work in our favour,' he said. 'I will speak to him about Hagrid ... warn him that if any of my staff -- or former staff -- are charged on insufficient evidence, I shall see to it that the entire affair is made public ...' 

'Sirius, you can't stop here,' said Lupin suddenly. 'Fudge could be having the place watched ... and Ormesby will probably have Severus and me brought back to headquarters at some point, to interrogate us without Fudge interfering.' 

'Yes,' said Dumbledore, 'it would be best if Sirius went and stayed with Mundungus Fletcher for a while.' 

'Have you found out _anything_ about Harry?' Sirius asked him urgently. 

Dumbledore's face grew sombre. 

'I have not,' he said. 'Hedwig and I have searched the length and breadth of Britain and seen no sign of him. It would take strong magic indeed to conceal a wizard from his own owl ...' 

Left unspoken were the words, '... if he was still alive.' 

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and turned to Snape. 'Have you anything to report, Severus?' 

'Nothing of any real importance,' said Snape. 'Since our last conversation, all the Death Eaters have been instructed to lie low and forbidden to conjure the Dark Mark without permission. The only fresh orders the Dark Lord has given me specifically are to keep you under observation and notify him of any unusual behaviour. When I told him you were not replying to owls and nobody knew where you were, he appeared satisfied. Apart from that, he still has me fetching and carrying. The Dark Lord seems to have lost all interest in the Potter family since cursing Potter's house. It was not merely my research into their background that was halted, but everyone's, at least as far as I have been able to learn. He has offered no explanation for this. In fact, he has not so much as mentioned the incident in passing whilst talking to me.' 

Snape stared down at the threadbare tablecloth. Lupin could almost see the wheels going round inside his head. 

'It may be,' Snape said slowly, 'that the most significant thing I have discovered is not what the Dark Lord has been doing, but what he has _not_ been doing. The Dark Lord was -- most upset -- when Potter once more escaped death at his hands on the night of his rebirth. Had Potter somehow managed to slip through his fingers yet again, I cannot imagine he would have simply decided to let the matter drop. Nor would he have murdered Potter and kept the deed secret. He'd have boasted of it to his Death Eaters, if no one else.' 

Snape fixed each of them in turn with his unfathomable black eyes. 

'If the Dark Lord is not searching for Potter, it is because he already has him. If the Dark Lord has not killed Potter, it is because, for some reason, he needs him alive.' 

A nasty silence fell over the room as they all considered just what that reason might be. Then Sirius stood abruptly and began to pace the kitchen. 

'Right, so Voldemort's holding him prisoner somewhere. What about Crouch's house? There'd be nobody living there ... and that graveyard -- have you searched the surrounding area? 

'I have checked all the places Voldemort has previously used as hideouts,' said Dumbledore. 'All those we're aware of, at any rate. None are currently occupied. I didn't really expect he'd be foolish enough to return to one of them ...' 

'So where is he now?' muttered Sirius. He looked sharply at Snape. 'You say he's had you fetching and carrying. Where's he had you fetching and carrying _to_?' 

'I -- don't -- know,' said Snape through gritted teeth. 'I Apparate where he summons me. Some kind of stone building -- he has a study and a room outside for us to wait in. There are other doors, but I've not been through them --' 

'Why haven't you, then?' demanded Sirius. 'Harry's been missing for over a fortnight, why haven't you searched the place top to bottom?' 

'Because I'd be caught before I'd gone five paces,' snapped Snape. 'I can't Apparate there unless I'm summoned and I can't Disapparate until the Dark Lord dismisses me. He has a serpent in a tank to keep an eye on us in the waiting room; the wretched creature watched me like a hawk the last time I was there --' 

'Well, if you're not willing to risk your neck looking for Harry, I am,' said Sirius flatly. 'You can take me with you the next time you go -- Dumbledore can Transfigure me into a mouse or something --' 

'You think no one has ever thought of that?' said Snape angrily. 'We can't carry living creatures with us when we Apparate in the Dark Lord's presence. Not even down to the size of a flea -- I've tried it.' 

Sirius surveyed Snape intently. 'Polyjuice Potion,' he said. 

'Brilliant deduction, Black,' sneered Snape. 'I could hardly afford to have it get back to the Dark Lord that Severus Snape had been spotted in Dumbledore's pet werewolf's kitchen --' 

'No, _I'll_ take Polyjuice Potion,' said Sirius impatiently. 'Turn into you, Apparate in your place. I can bring James' Invisibility Cloak with me --' 

'Polyjuice Potion won't give you the Dark Mark,' said Snape, sticking out his left forearm. 

'Nor will an Invisibility Cloak hide you from Voldemort,' said Dumbledore. 

'And may I remind you,' Snape continued, 'there is more at stake here than one boy's life. Our prime concern is stopping Voldemort, not safeguarding Harry Potter. I will do what I can for him, of course, but only insofar as it does not compromise my effectiveness as a spy.' 

It was a good thing for Snape that Sirius' pacing had taken him to the opposite end of the kitchen. Even so, Lupin was barely able to intercept Sirius in time. He had to literally fling his arms around Sirius to hold him back as his fingers weren't sufficiently mended to keep a grip on Sirius' robes. Sirius, moreover, was evidently quite prepared battle his way across the room with Lupin clinging on to him like a limpet, if that was what he had to do to get at Snape. 

'Sirius, sit down,' said Dumbledore. 

For a moment or two, Lupin was afraid that Sirius wasn't going to heed Dumbledore. Then all the fight seemed to go out of him. He ceased his attempts to drag Lupin bodily across the floor and stumbled to the nearest chair. 

'Dumbledore, you can't let him -- you can't just abandon Harry to die!' 

But there was a note of desolation behind the raw pleading in Sirius' voice. He must have understood as well as Lupin did that Snape was right: preventing Voldemort's return to power was more important than the fate of any one wizard. Lupin waited miserably for Dumbledore to tell Sirius exactly that. 

Dumbledore was silent for nearly a full minute. He appeared to be carefully weighing his words. 

'There is indeed more at stake here than one boy's life, Severus,' he said at last. 'Nonetheless, we _must_ have Harry back. You are not to risk yourself pointlessly -- I agree that a search of the building you spoke of is out of the question under the present circumstances -- but if you see any chance of getting Harry safely away, any chance at all, do not hesitate to take it ... even if it means sacrificing your cover as a Death Eater.' 

Ignoring the flabbergasted expressions on the faces of his companions, Dumbledore stood briskly. 

'Now I must be off. I will notify you if I learn anything new; you all know how to contact me should you do likewise.' 

He gave them a small smile, and Disapparated. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


	6. Eagle, Serpent and Cat

  
Author's Note: This epilogue will make a lot more sense if you've also read "The Serpent", in which Harry learnt he could turn into a snake. 

* * *

  
  


— EPILOGUE — 

_Eagle, Serpent and Cat_

  
Albus Dumbledore sat in his study, staring out the window at the darkening sky and mulling over Severus' latest report. The Potions master's logic was irrefutable as always, but it had merely served to confirm what Dumbledore already knew. He'd never had any real doubts that Harry was still alive. Divination was a fuzzy and inexact branch of magic, and even true predictions were notoriously subject to misinterpretation -- yet Dumbledore was all but certain that _this_ was not the way Harry Potter was going to die. As for Voldemort having him, it was the obvious explanation for why no one -- not the Ministry, not Dumbledore, not even Hedwig -- had been able to find Harry. 

It was a bit puzzling, though. Voldemort had seemed quite intent on murdering Harry that night in the graveyard; Dumbledore couldn't imagine what had happened to so quickly change his mind. Even if Voldemort had at last seen through James Potter's ruse, he had other reasons for wanting Harry dead, particularly if he grasped the full implications of his having taken Harry's blood to restore himself. 

The only thing Dumbledore could think might induce Voldemort to spare Harry's life was if he'd discovered something else, unique to Harry, that could somehow be used to facilitate his takeover of the magical world. According to Severus, Voldemort had learnt of his and Harry's shared wand cores several days prior to the attack. But whilst Harry's wand might be of some value to Voldemort, he certainly didn't need Harry to wield it, nor had he made any attempt to retrieve the wand itself from Arabella Figg's. 

That left Voldemort's research into Harry's family history. Dumbledore had never expected anything to come of this. The Potters were an old wizarding family, but for the most part an unexceptional one. Indeed, he'd been rather pleased that Voldemort had been gulled into embarking upon such a colossal waste of his time. Had Voldemort's enquiries yielded up something of significance after all? It seemed far-fetched, but there was nothing else to account for the Dark Lord's behaviour. Clearly, Dumbledore would have to launch his own investigation of the Potter family's background ... once he'd sorted out Cornelius Fudge, that is. 

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead wearily. He wasn't looking forward to that interview, but the Minister had to be headed off before he managed to cause some serious damage. The man had a positive talent for doing the worst possible thing at the worst possible time. It occurred to Dumbledore, not for the first time, that Voldemort may simply have realised that it would create infinitely more disruption and difficulty, for both Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic, to leave Harry alive and in need of rescue, rather than dead and beyond help. And he still had no idea how Voldemort had got past the protections he'd placed on Harry and his relatives. None of the Death Eaters had been studying these types of spells, at least not to Severus' knowledge; they'd all been busy researching the Potters ... 

Dumbledore felt a sudden coldness in his stomach. Was that what Voldemort had discovered? Something about Harry's family -- some inherited magic or peculiarity of the bloodline -- that acted to cancel out protective charms? It would explain why no similarly protected sites had been attacked, and why Voldemort hadn't killed Harry. If he believed that this power could be extended to break through other protections, but hadn't yet figured out how ... if he required Harry's cooperation to do so, and hadn't yet managed to obtain it ... 

Dumbledore gave a shudder. He'd been trying very hard not to think about Harry's probable treatment at Voldemort's hands during his captivity. His chances of extricating Harry from the Dark Lord's clutches were extremely remote. In the eleven years of his initial rise to power, no one had ever succeeded in tracking down either Voldemort himself or any of his permanent bases. Barring unforeseen developments, Dumbledore had little hope of -- 

WHOOSH. 

Something small and grey came pelting through the window, aimed straight at Dumbledore's face. He ducked to one side; the object bounced off the armchair's high back and landed in his beard with a _flump_. Dumbledore looked down. A tiny grey owl, with an even tinier white scroll held in its beak, lay on its back emitting a steady stream of muffled twitters as its minute legs kicked at the air. 

With some difficulty, the owl found its feet. It tried to take off again, but whilst getting up its claws had become hopelessly ensnared in Dumbledore's long silver hair. Fluttering its wings madly, the owl rose a few inches into the air (dragging most of Dumbledore's beard along behind it), then sank back, exhausted, onto Dumbledore's lap. 

The little owl gazed up at Dumbledore appealingly. Smiling to himself, Dumbledore took the scroll from its beak and performed a Disentangling Charm. Once free, the owl began rocketing around the room hooting with joy, as Fawkes regarded it benignly from his golden perch. 

Dumbledore turned his attention to scroll. It was made of Muggle paper, white with blue pinstripes, and tied closed by what appeared to be a length of dental floss. He pulled off the fastening, unrolled the strip of paper and read: 

_ Dear Dumbledore, _

I think I know how Harry's been hiding. 

Hermione 

* 

On a fine clear morning in early August, a handsome white-tailed eagle circled the sky above the stockbroker belt of Surrey. Such a bird would have been a remarkable sight in Britain even in the countryside, yet none of the people in the suburb below seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. They paid no heed when the eagle dropped like an arrow into a neat Greater Whinging garden and rose again with a hoarse cry of triumph, a small green snake clutched in its talons. 

The eagle glided to a nearby street lamp, upon which was balanced a round straw basket. It dropped its quarry into the basket's narrow mouth to join the half-dozen odd other snakes that it had caught in the course of the day. 

Next instant the eagle was gone and Albus Dumbledore stood floating in mid-air beside the basket. Very gently he lifted out his most recent catch, which hung limply in his hands. 

'Harry?' he said. 

The snake made no reply. Taking his wand from his robes, Dumbledore began poking and prodding it, muttering incantations. The snake remained as unresponsive as ever, and after several minutes Dumbledore lowered it back in the basket to rejoin its fellows. 

'Getting a bit crowded in there,' Dumbledore observed. He picked up the basket and silently vanished. 

* 

Sitting cross-legged on the fluffy pink carpet of Hermione Granger's bedroom, Dumbledore took the snakes from their basket one by one, holding them out for her great ginger cat Crookshanks to inspect. Hermione herself watched anxiously from the edge of the bed. 

Crookshanks gave each snake a desultory sniff, but showed no particular interest in any of them. When they'd all been checked over, Crookshanks leapt up on the bed and onto Hermione's lap, looking up at her and purring. Hermione stroked him absent-mindedly, but continued to gaze, downcast, at the basket of snakes. 

'I'm not sure Crookshanks would recognise Harry as a snake,' she said in a low, worried tone. 'I mean, he detected Wormtail, but Wormtail was an Animagus and I don't think Harry's one, and Crookshanks wasn't around any of the times he transformed ...' She went quiet for a second or two, then burst out, 'And if Harry did turn into a snake, why hasn't he changed back? Could he be stuck, do you think? Could something have gone wrong with the transformation?' 

'That would be highly unlikely,' said Dumbledore. 'You said he became a serpent on four separate occasions without incident. Once the Animagus transformation is successfully established, it's quite rare for it to miscarry at a later date, and such failures in natural shape-shifters are practically unheard of.' 

'Reversal spells didn't work on him,' said Hermione dully. 'If he did get stuck, we couldn't turn him back. And what if he was run over by a lorry, or eaten by something? If he's -- if he's -- _dead_ ... if he stayed a snake, we'd never know ...' 

She buried her face in her hands. Dumbledore reached up and patted her knee comfortingly. 

'He could be halfway across the country by now,' Hermione said in a muffled voice. 'I should've thought of this _sooner_, you could've started hunting for him before he'd time to get very far ...' 

'I've put the word out amongst the larger birds of prey that they are not to kill any snakes at present,' said Dumbledore soothingly. 'They'll report it to me immediately should they spot one behaving strangely. All the snakes I've captured are being kept in a safe place, whilst Professor McGonagall and I research fresh ways to reverse Transfigurations.' 

'If I hadn't been so afraid of getting in trouble ...' said Hermione bitterly, 'if I'd told Professor McGonagall when we first found out Harry could change into a snake, she'd probably have already worked out how to reverse it. Or after Madam Turpin was caught ... I _meant_ to try and convince Harry to tell someone, but Rita Skeeter'd just written that foul article about Hagrid, and with helping Harry with the Triwizard Tournament, it completely slipped my mind. It was only when you asked me if I knew how he could've stayed hidden for so long, and I remembered Rita ...' 

Hermione's lips thinned into an angry line. 

'Well, at least that's one thing we don't have to worry about in any more --' she said grimly, '-- her snooping around for stories.' 

— THE END — 

To find out what happens to Harry  
read  
"The Serpent of Lord Voldemort" 

* * *

**Related Stories:**

The Serpent - Harry encounters Madam Turpin and learns he can transform into a snake. 

The Bug - Rita Skeeter goes buzzing around the ruins of the Dursleys' house and gets her comeuppance. 

The Serpent of Lord Voldemort - The story of Voldemort's attack on number four and what befell Harry afterwards. 

An Unwelcome Visitor - How Ormesby first ran foul of Harry, Snape and Sirius. 

Thank you to all the people who reviewed those stories and this one. 

* * *

_ Disclaimer: All characters and concepts from the Harry Potter series copyright J K Rowling. _


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